Adventure Magazine Cover, April 3, 1918 — page 30: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

28 was the fitful sweep of the aurora above the trees on the ridge and the phosphorescent smear of organic gases waving over the black muck marsh beneath. Carlisle gazed at the pyrotechnic display till too prolonged gazing began to produce internal flashes in his brain and he dropped his head for sleep. All the rest of the camp slumbered save Missowa and Waseyawin, who before turn- ing in with their fellows were sitting a mo- ment by the fire pointing with the stems of their pipes at the aurora and the will-o’-the- wisps. They were talking in hissing, gurg- ling, lisping Cree, and the trend of their speech was the last sound to reach Carlisle’s drowsy ears. “Behold, my Cree brother,” spoke Mis- sowa, “there are the Spirit Lights in their Summer garb, the souls of our forefathers rushing rank on rank into battle. For the dead die not, Waseyawin, but live to hunt and fish and fight again even as you and I shall do. Their robes of light and flashing spears are but signs for their children and their children’s children here in the forest below.” ‘“‘Ae, Missowa,” nodded the Cree, “signs that we will follow when our last camp-fire is burned. But these others,” indicating the dancing, incandescent will-o’-the-wisps, ‘‘we do not follow. For they, my Ojibway brother, are the lures of our enemies, of Shining Horns and hismen. They think us at the bottom of the whirlpools, and these lights they have put out by magic to lead our drowned souls astray!”’ CHAPTER VI THE DEAD ARISE HREE hundred miles of headland- broken, island-studded gale-thrashed, roller-raped Winnipeg lay behind, one hun- dred and more of the sinuous Saskatchewan, and at last through the long twilight of a Northern evening Cumberland House loomed up on Pine Island Lake, the western arm of the Sturgeon. July had run out upon Lake Winnipeg where head winds held them behind shel- tering points, where erratic squalls beached them upon stormy lee shores, where rain- choked gales flailed them upon barren islets, smothering any attempt at fire, levelingjany attempt at shelter, roaring and ramping for Adventure five days ata stretch. It was the first week of August and the end of Carlisle’s long journey from James Bay. The-end, and how familiar an end! His mind turned back to the time when he had sojourned here with Thompson long years before, planning and executing for the day of undisputed supremacy of the Hudson’s Bay Company, and his blood leaped as he glimpsed the well-remembered log post buildings, the stout stockade, the tall flag- staff with the blood-red banner of his cor- poration flapping from its tip. All about the stockade straggled Indian teepees of the tribes come in to trade. The smoke of many teepee fires spiraled through the dusk and a babel of noises rose from the camps, the guttural jargon of the hunters and squaws, laughter of the maidens, wails of papooses, shrieks of children at play, barking of mongrel dogs. Suddenly these noises stilled! Men lin- ing the stockade, standing upon the firing steps and leaning over the palisades, had caught sight of Carlisle’s huge canoe. A voice commanded silence, and then witha surge a loud cheer burst from whites and Indians alike. They recognized even in the dusk the Hudson’s Bay flag in the canoe bow, the long gonfalon in the stern, the gaudy cos- tumes, woolen streamers, slanting feathers that graced the canoemen of a Factor. Here, then, was the new overlord they ex- pected—here was Carlisle of far Moose Factory! The gate swung open swiftly, and a bare- headed, swarthy-skinned, heavily-built half- breed came forward. Cree blood showed in his eyes and feature casting, and by these signs as well as by the description Eugene Drummond had given of him Carlisle im- mediately recognized him as Henry Galt, the chief trader who had been left in charge of the post awaiting his taking it over. Son of one of the earlier white adventurers who had married among the Crees, Drum- mond had said, and now as he advanced with long stalking strides he spoke a salu- tation in Cree. ‘Welcome, Factor,’ he greeted respect- fully, glancing the rest over with his black eyes but seeming not to see any other than his superior as he glanced. ‘You have had a hard journey I-read.”’ “True, Galt, a hard one,”’ returned Car- lisle. ‘“Through fire and flood on the rivers Gomicidoo S (C@